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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779858">Clay Oven Cafe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline'>walkalittleline</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fjorclay Week 2020, M/M, fjorclay week</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:00:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779858</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2: fake dating</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Caduceus Clay/Fjord</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>92</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Clay Oven Cafe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dude, just ask <em> someone</em>, I don’t care who, I need you to do me a solid this time.”</p>
<p>Fjord grimaces, though he can already feel his resolve breaking at the desperate look on Beau’s face.</p>
<p>“It’s just the one time?” he says warily.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Beau replies, gripping her hands together pleadingly. “Please, dude, I’ll do dishes for two weeks straight.”</p>
<p>Fjord sighs.</p>
<p>“I mean if you’re sure it’s just the one time…”</p>
<p>“It will be, I <em> swear</em>,” Beau says emphatically. “Jester’s mom is just worried about us going out alone, you know, she’s super protective with her.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I know,” Fjord mumbles. He sighs again and rubs one hand over the back of his head. “Alright,” he says at last. “For <em> one date</em>, Beau, that’s it.”</p>
<p>Beau lets out a shout of triumph and punches the air before nearly tackling him in a crushing hug.</p>
<p>“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise,” she yammers excitedly. She beams as she pulls away from him, looking so pleased Fjord can’t help but smile himself at her glee.</p>
<p>“I’m going to go call Jes,” she says, tugging her phone from the pocket of her sweatpants, still talking as she walks backwards away from him. “I’ll let you know the time for sure when I get back tonight. And don’t forget to find a date!”</p>
<p>She waves to him as she holds her phone to her ear, flashing him a thumbs up before jogging off down the sidewalk. Fjord watches her go for a few seconds before letting out a long breath through his lips. Great. He just has to find someone to agree to go on a date with him in three days then never speak to him again. Easy.</p>
<p>He pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s still fairly early, though he’s been up for a few hours to get in his twice weekly workout with Beau. He hasn’t eaten breakfast yet, though, and given how he’s helping her he thinks he can let himself have a cheat meal before going home to shower and get ready for his midday shift lifeguarding at the local pool.</p>
<p>So he tucks his phone back in his pocket and hikes his duffel bag of gym gear higher on his shoulder before heading down the street in the same direction Beau had disappeared. He turns off the usual path back to their apartment, walking down the unfamiliar street until he comes across a small cafe with a cheery, hand-painted welcome sign hanging on the door, an array of potted plants decorating the front window. He glances up at the sign overhead that reads <em> Clay Oven Cafe </em> before pushing open the door, taken aback by the wind chimes that tinkle overhead rather than a bell.</p>
<p>It’s quiet inside, small and homey with mismatched chairs in a variety of bright colors and strings of pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. There are plants on nearly every surface, not just the long sill just inside the door, little clay pots as brightly colored as the chairs scattered on every table and the counter, which he realizes after a few seconds of taking the place in has someone sitting behind it.</p>
<p>She looks young, late teens maybe, with hair dyed in so many colors he’s not sure what the natural one is. She smiles brightly as Fjord approaches, straightening in her seat expectantly.</p>
<p>“Hi!” she says when Fjord reaches the counter. “Can I help you?” </p>
<p>“Um, yeah,” Fjord glances down at the handwritten name tag on her apron, “Clarabelle.” Her grin widens. “I haven’t had breakfast yet, what do you recommend?”</p>
<p>“Well, we bake all our own bread and pastries and grow our own produce,” Clarabelle says happily. “So you can’t really go wrong. He’s very proud of the egg and mushroom toast.”</p>
<p>“He?”</p>
<p>“My brother,” Clarabelle says, jerking her thumb towards a door Fjord assumes leads to the kitchen. “He does all the cooking and gardening. So what would you like?”</p>
<p>“Oh, um, I guess that toast sounds good,” Fjord says with a shrug. He glances at the pastry case. “And one of those muffins. And a coffee.”</p>
<p>“We have a very nice selection of teas, too,” Clarabelle says cheerfully, gesturing to a row of tins of loose tea leaves beside the pastry case. “We’re known for our tea.”</p>
<p>“Alright, then, surprise me,” Fjord says with a shrug. He pulls out his wallet to pay before taking a seat near the counter to wait for his food as Clarabelle disappears into the back, calling to someone as the door shuts behind her.</p>
<p>Fjord fiddles with his phone for a few minutes, glancing up when he hears the kitchen door open and Clarabelle emerge with a steaming mug of tea and his muffin on a plate.</p>
<p>“Here you go,” she says brightly, setting it in front of him. “Your toast should—oh wait, he’s got it.”</p>
<p>Fjord glances up to follow her line of sight towards the kitchen, where a second firbolg is emerging carrying a plate with the rest of Fjord’s food. He’s taller than his sister, with bright pink hair streaked with white pulled into a messy bun, an apron tied around his waist dusted with flour, a smudge of it across one cheek. Fjord’s not sure if it’s the lighting or the fact that he’s carrying food and he’s approaching ravenous hunger, but he thinks he might be the most beautiful man he’s ever seen.</p>
<p>“Here you go, sir,” the man says as he approaches, holding the plate out to set in front of Fjord, who’s fairly certain he’s openly gaping at this point. </p>
<p>“I could have gotten it,” Clarabelle grumbles moodily.</p>
<p>The man hums, smiling and ruffling his sister’s hair before looking back at Fjord.</p>
<p>“Enjoy.” He smiles warmly as he says it and Fjord makes a strangled sort of croak in response. It doesn’t seem to phase the man, who merely smiles again before disappearing back into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“If you need anything,” Clarabelle says, her chipper air returning as she heads behind the counter to her seat again.</p>
<p>Fjord stares at the closed door to the kitchen for a moment before his stomach growls in protest and he turns back to his food. It’s incredible, though it may be a combination of hunger and the fact that he and Beau live off a mix of protein shakes and take-out while this tastes like what he imagines home-cooked food would. Not that he knows from experience. He doesn’t count Beau’s or his feeble attempts at it as cooking, really.</p>
<p>He’s sipping at the dregs of his tea and finishing off the last crumbs of his muffin, his stomach pleasantly full and the warm sun flooding through the front window making him feel like he could fall asleep in his chair, when the door to the kitchen opens again and his drowsiness vanishes. The man with flour smudged on his cheek—it’s still there—reappears clutching a paper bag. He’s still just as beautiful to Fjord when he has a full stomach.</p>
<p>“Belle, Mom just asked if you could take some muffins to Aunt Corrin before you go to class,” he says, holding the bag out towards Clarabelle.</p>
<p>“You don’t mind if I leave early?” Clarabelle says as she glances at the clock.</p>
<p>“No, I’ve got it,” the man replies. His voice is deep and soothing. “Go ahead. Tell Corrin I said hello.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Clarabelle says and accepts the bag. She hops down off her chair and unties her apron before shoving it into her brother’s hands. “Bye!”</p>
<p>“Have fun in class,” her brother calls after her as she heads out the door with a jangle I’d chimes, a backpack covered in bright pins slung over one shoulder.</p>
<p>The man chuckles and neatly folds the apron, which he tucks under the counter, humming quietly as he does. He pauses and looks up at Fjord, who realizes he’s staring openly, probably looking like an absolute creep sitting alone watching this stranger, slack-jawed.</p>
<p>“Everything taste okay?” the man says warmly. </p>
<p>
  <em> Yes, it was amazing. </em>
</p>
<p>Is what he means to say.</p>
<p>What comes out instead is, “Are you single?”</p>
<p>He swears internally as the man blinks bemusedly back at him.</p>
<p>“Yes?” he says slowly, sounding confused.</p>
<p>“This is going to sound stupid,” Fjord says, hastily trying to salvage the conversation. He stands and moves to stand opposite the man at the counter. “But if I gave you fifty bucks, would you pretend to go on a date with me?”</p>
<p>“I—what?”</p>
<p>Fjord sighs and drags his had through his hair restlessly.</p>
<p>“My best friend is going on her first date with her girlfriend but her mom is weirdly protective so she wants it to be a double date but I’m single and I need a date by Saturday and I <em> really </em> don’t want to have to find some sleazeball on Tinder or something and I just had the idea that maybe if I just <em> paid </em> someone and you seemed alright so...yeah.” He says it all very rapidly, feeling his ears grow hot at the unchanging look of almost amused confusion on the other man’s face. Fjord takes the few seconds of silence to glance down at his name tag.</p>
<p><em>Caduceus</em>.</p>
<p>“How do you know I’m not a sleazeball?” </p>
<p>“Huh?” Fjord looks back up at him again.</p>
<p>“I said, how do you know I’m not a sleazeball?” He’s fully smiling now, one corner of his lips turned up in a look that Fjord hopes is playful amusement.</p>
<p>“You run a cafe with your little sister,” Fjord replies. Desperate to regain his footing in the conversation, he leans his elbow on the counter and grins up at him. “Can’t be that bad,” he adds, shrugging one shoulder.</p>
<p>Caduceus hums thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“Do I get to know the name of the person asking me on a not-date?” he says. Fjord tries not to get distracted by how long his eyelashes are.</p>
<p>“Fjord. Stone,” he holds out his hand for Caduceus to shake.</p>
<p>“Caduceus Clay,” he replies, taking Fjord’s hand in his own. His fingers are long and slender, a little knobbly like the rest of him but appealingly so.</p>
<p>“Stone and Clay, there you go,” Fjord says, grinning when Caduceus laughs.</p>
<p>“What would this date that’s not a date entail, exactly?” Caduceus says.</p>
<p>“Just dinner, which I’ll cover, of course, maybe a movie, I think Beau—my friend—is still figuring it out,” Fjord replies. He’s starting to regret saying it <em> wasn’t </em>a date and beginning to wonder if Caduceus would let it become one. </p>
<p>Caduceus looks him over carefully, like he’s trying to determine if Fjord is the type of person to stab him in an alley or not.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he says at last, shrugging. “And you can keep your fifty dollars. I’d feel guilty taking that <em> and </em>a free meal from you.”</p>
<p>“Really?” Fjord says, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager. Caduceus nods. “Great, I’ll just—my phone number.” </p>
<p>They exchange numbers and Fjord promises to text him with the details as soon as he has them.</p>
<p>“Thanks again,” he says as he pockets his phone. “My friend will be thrilled.”</p>
<p>“Glad to help,” Caduceus says, smiling. “Is there anything I should know to pretend to be dating you?”</p>
<p>Fjord laughs nervously, feeling the heat return to his face. </p>
<p>“I’ll, um, I’ll text some stuff over later, we can figure it out,” he says.</p>
<p>Caduceus makes a considering sound. “It’s kind of fun,” he says thoughtfully, “I’ve never pretended to date someone before.”</p>
<p>“Me neither,” Fjord says weakly, kicking himself for ever mentioning pretending it was a date. “Well, uh, I gotta get home and get ready for work but thanks again. For the breakfast and the, um...’date’.”</p>
<p>Caduceus smiles wide and warm and Fjord feels his knees go a little weak at the sight.</p>
<p>“I’ll talk to you soon, Fjord,” he says, tapping his phone lightly with his finger.</p>
<p>“Right,” Fjord wavers on the spot, trying to think of something interesting to say but only managing, “okay, bye.”</p>
<p>He wants to smack himself in the head as he’s walking away stiffly but restrains himself out of fear of looking even more strange than he already has the entire interaction. He does allow himself to lean up against the wall and bury his face in his hands with a groan when he’s half a block away from the cafe, though, his face hot under his fingers from embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Stupid,” he mutters. </p>
<p>“Fjord!”</p>
<p>He jerks his head up and turns to see Caduceus jogging down the sidewalk towards him, holding up the duffle bag Fjord hadn’t even realized he’d left behind.</p>
<p>“You forgot this,” Caduceus says, slightly out of breath as he approaches and holds the bag out to Fjord. There’s still a bit of flour on his cheek.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Fjord says dumbly, taking the bag, “sorry. Thanks.”</p>
<p>“You’re welcome,” Caduceus says cheerfully. He gestures back over his shoulder. “I should get back.”</p>
<p>“Hang on,” Fjord says as he turns to leave. “Just… here.” He reaches him to brush his thumb over Caduceus’ cheek, swiping away to flour. “You had… sorry.”</p>
<p>Caduceus touches his cheek absently as Fjord pulls his hand back again, his ears burning.</p>
<p>“I’ll let you get back.”</p>
<p>“Hm? Oh, yeah, shoot,” Caduceus says, glancing back at the café. “It was nice meeting you, Fjord. I’ll keep an eye out for your message, yeah?”</p>
<p>Fjord hums in agreement, raising a hand in farewell as Caduceus walks back towards the café, smiling and waving back at Fjord as he goes. Fjord waits a few seconds before turning and heading the opposite direction. He waits until he’s sure he’s out of sight and checks that he has everything before sagging against the wall again, letting his head drop back with a soft <em> thump</em>. He’s definitely giving Beau the abridged version of events when he lets her know he’s found a date—<em>not</em> a date, he has to remind himself—like he promised.</p>
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